


Chapter Fifty-Nine: Unleash Hell

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [60]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Battle, Gen, Invasion, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Invasion! The <i>Lost Light</i> is overrun by strange, golden mechs, all repeating the same number, and the crew does what it can to defend their home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Fifty-Nine: Unleash Hell

Am I born to kill or to appease?  
Am I the cure or am I the disease?  
I forgot about all of it  
Finally I've got rid of it

—["Unleash Hell"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AE9BkdxK3o) by The Retrosic, from _Nightcrawler_  
  


Security Office  
The  _Lost Light  
_ Twenty-five Cycles Ago

When the circuit boosters hit his system, Trailcutter jolted upright, shivering, in his seat. "What the hell...?" _Dammit, Art! What the hell did you order?_

Wait. How fast did he drink the Levels of Bad Aft? Time, time, time — 

Ten cycles.

Ten cycles? 

Frag, how long had he been distracted?

Time, time, time....

Monitors. Banks of monitors. 

His optics darted across, scanning each screen for a click before moving the next one. How did Red manage this? 

There. Smokescreen and Inferno crossed the field of the camera, Medibay level.

Dogfight and Blades. Hab level.

Doubletap and Strafe. Comms.

_Dammit, focus!_

_"Hey, Teebs, you running relay?"_ Huffer hailed.

Trailcutter darted his eyes to Maintenance. Some of his old comrades had a hard time with his name change. Sometimes it was a jolt, a reminder of the time prior to the Lost Light; others, it was nostalgia. Shaking his head from his too-sharp thoughts, he leaned forward, flicking the switch to Maintenance. "Read you, Huffer; what's up?"

_"I did some tests on the coolant systems and...well, don't want to bore you with the details there, but we found a few leaks down on level M-5, but...me and Gears think it looks intentional. And for kicks and giggles, I did a coolant flush and...well, I'm picking up some background radiation on the instruments. Radiation that shouldn't be there."_

"'Intentional'?" Trailcutter chewed on his bottom lip. "Okay, let me see if I can get someone to sweep that corridor for you while you patch things up. Hey, Smokey, Inferno, can you double back to M-5?" He waited ten clicks before attempting another hail. "Smokescreen?" Another ten clicks passed. Well, that's weird. "Hey, Blaster, you reading me?"

_"Loud and proud, big guy; what's shaking?"_

"Smokescreen and Inferno aren't answering my hail; can you pinpoint them? Last they pinged was in Maintenance."

_"I'll see what I can do, but we're focused on our fearless leader and co. We'll keep you posted."_

"All I can ask for. Thanks, Blaster."

 _"What seems to be the problem?"_ Hound questioned. After Trailcutter relayed Huffer's report, the Autobot tracker volunteered. _"I need to stretch my servos anyway; sitting pretty in a chair never suited me much. Besides, if something's pinging those old rad counters, it could be more serious than realised."_

"Good thinking, Hound — thanks!"

 _"While we got you on the horn,"_ Cavalier interrupted, _"We need a split relay; Grapple can't get a hold of Hoist and boss lady's ignoring me."_

"Can do — what's the problem?"

The Minibot hesitated. That's...not normal. _"Me and Grapple were concentrating on surface scanning, and while he wanted to tell Hoist about nerd stuff, I picked up a ship hiding dark side. Can't pull a registration, but it's got a Sirian gang brand and I need boss lady to ID it."_

Once, with Smokescreen and Inferno was coincidence, but if Cavalier and Blaster in the command hub were unable to reach either party...now, paranoia set in. 

_Okay. Don't panic._ There's a logical explanation for this. "Will do, Cav. Art's in your vicinity, I'll send her your way."

Time, time, time....

Artemis had not checked in yet. 

His optics darted to the monitor to the command lift and swore. 

Artemis had rushed Sunstreaker, pushing him against the wall of the lift. Sunstreaker had kept his hand out, palm down, as Bob crouched, antennae down. The bug was scared, but had taken a defencive stance. 

Time, time, time....

Just as he thumbed the intercom, Artemis stood down on her own. She was still geared up, but it was progress. "Hey, Art, your team's five cycles over. What's your status?"

There. Crisis defusing. Artemis's shoulders relaxed. _"Going over our route, 'Cutter. Setting boundaries."_ Something happened. Anger still lingered in her voice. 

Sunstreaker dropped his hand, grinning. _"Just making sure you didn't completely defang your girlfriend, 'Breaker,"_ he laughed. _"She's still got a bite."_

"More than a bite if you don't watch it," Trailcutter jested, though his attempt at humour was undeniably possessive. "Gears and Huffer reported weird energy fluctuations in the Maintenance levels; Hound's checking it out. Cav's reporting problems with comms, but she's picked up a ship flying Sirian colours and wanted you to ID it."

 _"Sirian colours?"_ Artemis revealed. _"And what's this about Maintenance?"_

"Smokescreen checked in ten cycles ago, but when I hailed them to meet up with Huffer, neither responded, hence why Hound went in. I'll keep you posted."

Something squelched in the speakers, then silence.

"Art? Hey, Art? 'Streaker?" He switched frequencies. "Max?" Hit his comm. "Hey, Cav, you reading?" Tapped another speed dial. "Hoist?"

Dead silence.

Worrying his bottom lip, he studied the monitors as he stood. One by one, they flickered to blue, signals knocked out. 

Dead.

_Don't panic. There's gotta be a logical explanation. Power loss._

_Gotta be it._

Five clicks.

Ten.

_Safe here._

_No. Not safe. Not for long._

"Get it together," he growled, bolting to the door.

He panicked, fingers hovering over the open glyph. His spark pulsing faster. _Safe here._

No.

Exiting the office, he banked sharp left towards the lift for Engineering.

He made it five steps.

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

The phrase was transmitted, just inside the audio receptor, and fear clutched his spark.

No. Not fear.

Dread. A presence, heavy, on his back. 

Clenched, unclenched his hands. Palms warm — hot. 

_Panic._

Trailcutter turned his head to look over his shoulder. 

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

Towering gold drones filled his peripheral. Swinging his head front, he sucked in a breath as more drones swarmed around him.

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

He had bluffed his way through Decepticon bounty hunters. But those could be reasoned with, threatened, tricked, scared off. These mechs, their electromagnetic fields neutral, nothing giving off any sort of individual, of life other than automatons.  
Something...something was off. Drones could not be reasoned with, yet the urge to reach whatever power source was running them...whatever sentience may be within them.... 

"Please," Trailcutter held up a hand. "Don't come closer...."

His plea went unheeded.

 

*

 

Artemis and Sunstreaker  
Command Wing  
Now

"Seventeen-twenty-one?" Sunstreaker snarled, blasting the head off one of the drones with his hand cannon. "What the hell does that mean?"

"No fraggin' clue — mind on the fight!" Artemis snapped, slamming the hammer under her attacker's shoulder, rending the arm from its socket. "Where's Bob?"

"Sent him in the vents — he's not much of a fighter! What's the plan, Prime?"

I wish people would stop calling me that! "Hit them hard and tear them apart — not much we can do until comms are back online!"

"Optimistic, aren't you?" Sunstreaker guffawed, claiming a fallen sword. "Few I'd be willing to die in battle with, Art — let's make it count!"

 _Not on my watch, 'Streaker,_ she thought, but wasted no more breath as she pressed onward, sheathing the hammer and drawing Heaven.

"Thought you didn't pack heat on ship?" Sunstreaker demanded, taking out another drone with a headshot. 

_Overlord kinda changed matters._

_"Hey, boss lady!"_ Cavalier hailed, _"I need more power from Engineering to override the jamming signal, but Hoist's pinned down and Dipstick's wounded, and I've gotta scram 'cuz Bob's got bogeys on his radar!"_

Good. At least someone's watching her five. "Think we can make it to Engineering?" Artemis questioned to her impromptu teammate.

Sunstreaker barked his sardonic laugh as he slammed his elbow into the face of an incoming drone before sinking his stolen sword into its throat. "No, but might as take down what we can and look damn fine doing it!"

Ship-wide speakers squelched to life. _"—repeat, the Lost Light is under attack,"_ Max reported, collected but clipped. _"Our defences have been breached by unknown aggressors—"_

 

*

 

Fifty Meters from the Security Office  
Fifteen cycles ago

Intake.

Outtake.

Intake.

Outtake.

Intake.

Outtake.

 _Pull it together, Brat._

Intake.

Outtake.

Intake.

Outtake.

_Dammit, Brat! Relay! You're on relay!_

Intake.

Outtake.

Intake.

Outtake.

The ducts were warm. Too warm. Heated from the blast radius. Five metres from her position, the ventilation shaft had been distorted, crushed. It had been loud, an explosion of twisted limbs and spray of fluid that left her audio receptors popping and hissing.

Intake.

Outtake.

Intake.

Outtake.

 _Panic-dread-panic-dread-fear-help-please-don't-come-closer-please—_

She felt that. _She felt it._

Intake.

Outtake. 

Intake.

Outtake.

_Move, Brat! Wrecker up and beat your feet! You've seen worse!_

Intake.

Outtake.

Intake.

Out—

 _"Cav, what's your twenty?"_ Blaster hailed. 

Cavalier hiccoughed, made a few false starts, then gulped. "Security wing," she revealed, her timing hitching. "Think — " think think think! "Explosive device. Musta tried to take out security. Backfired on them. Just missed me."

_"You good?"_

"Yeah — some ringing, little spooked, nothing major."

_"Gonna need you to get to the comm relay station, get the emergency broadcasting up. Can you pull it off?"_

"Yeah. Sure. On it." Timing was off. Recalibrate. 

Intake.

Outtake.

Internal map: comms was one level down. She could drop down, take a floor duct, and continue through the walls that way.  
Climbing through ground zero....

Dropping into the corridor, she sucked air into her vents, fighting a whimper. Lights had been blown out, destroyed by force, and the twisted wreckage of....

...drones?

_Focus, Brat!_

Scampering to the nearest vent cover, she wrenched it free and, as an afterthought, grabbed the head of one of the drones on her descent into the service tunnels.

All the while, she forced what she had seen into the back of her brain. She could not dwell on it right now. Comm relay first. Need to get that back up and running.

 

*  
Dipstick and Hoist  
Engineering Deck  
Ten Cycles Ago

 

The blast clipped Hoist's shoulder, striking kibble, but caught Dipstick square in the chest. Already in duck and cover mode, Hoist rushed forward, grabbing his wounded comrade and dragging him under a console for cover. 

"Muffler-fragger!" Dipstick snarled as Hoist studied the wound. Clean shot, straight through, cauterised instantly. Right arm, disabled.

"Don't try to move," Hoist ordered, optics focused on the triage kit across the room.

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

One hundred metres, and Hoist was not a sprinter. Now he searched for something — anything — to be a weapon, at least until he could get to the kit to staunch the bleed out.

_"Hey, Hoist, you reading me?"_

_Oh. That's lovely._ "Not a good time, Cavalier!" Hoist countered. "We're pinned down and Dipstick's wounded!"

_"And me not there to save his aft. I'm running relay; hang tight."_

"If you find a handgun, just give it to me so I can blow my brainbox out," Dipstick snarled. "I'll be damned if I let that clutch-chomping scraplet be the one with the honours."

Hoist wrapped his hands around a spanner and hefted it, crossing over his chest to take out a kneecap if needed. "I'd recommend you keep silent," Hoist whispered, narrowing his optics to focus on the task. 

_"—repeat, the Lost Light is under attack. Our defences have been breached by unknown aggressors—"_ Fortress Maximus's voice resonated over the intercoms.

"No slag," Dipstick hissed; Hoist pressed an arm against him to keep him still.

_"— Everyone be on your guard, we don't know how many have teleported on board —"_

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

_"—but it's possible—"_

Marching echoed closer, heralded by the repeating number sequence. 

_"—in fact it's very possible—"_

Gold giants, sightless and uniform, entered their field of vision. Hoist choked up on the spanner, now leaning protectively over his fellow engineer. 

_"—that we've been overrun."_

Over the marching, another series of heavy footfalls thundered closer. 

Leaping over the console, Trailcutter thrust his hands outward, throwing a forcefield to bar the golden giants further advancement. "Shuttle Bay Eleven!" the large mech shouted. "We're fortifying there!"

"Is the path clear?" Hoist, ever the cautious one, demanded, helping Dipstick to his feet.

"Right now? Yes. Five clicks from now? Let's hope so." Trailcutter took two steps back. "Let's move!"

"I won't lie to you; this will hurt." Gathering Dipstick into a firemech's carry, Hoist stood amid a cacophony of curses, moving as fast as he dared into the maintenance corridor.

 _"Hoist, it's Artemis. Hang tight — me and 'Streaker's on our way to assist."_

_Assist? You're missing an arm and dragging around an even looser cannon than Whirl!_ "We're on our way to Shuttle Bay Eleven; we're refortifying there," Hoist instead reported, panic distorting his voice. "Trailbreaker's covering our retreat."

_"We'll converge en route. Stay alive, Hoist."_

"You too, Art," Hoist signed off.

 

*

Cavalier and Bob  
Primary Communications Relay Terminal  
Service Corridor Five  
Ten Cycles Ago

 

Sunstreaker must have been engaged the enemy. Only reason why Bob would be on his own in the ventilation system.

Cavalier had crossed paths with the Insecticon en route to the relay; after a quick word of assurance and a couple of energon goodies, she partnered up with Bob to her destination. He was not much use as a fighter — he could look tough, and he was great at alerting danger before it came on top of them — but more often than not, he skulked in the shadows when trouble crashed down around their audio receptors. 

The alliance also assured Cavalier she could slip into her nervous habit of talking aloud without worrying about her own sanity.  
"Here we are," she whispered, pulling up a grate and dropping into a small room with banks of relays along each wall. Bob chirped, looking down to gauge the distance as his antennae twitched, before following suit, landing with a light step. Cavalier studied the banks, found the frequency override, and flipped the switch to the emergency broadcast. Placing the drone head on the console, she tapped out a series of buttons to reach the bridge. "Internal comms are green, Max — you have everyone's audio receptor!"

_"Thanks, Brat — see if you can boost our range to moonside now."_

"On it like a comet!" she agreed, scampering around Bob to the opposite wall and studied the readings. "Okay, there's something external jamming us, and I'm willing to bet it ain't raspberry-flavoured. Whatever raspberry tastes like. Digressing. Need to overpower the override. Hey, Hoist, you reading me?"

 _"Not a good time, Cavalier!"_ Hoist countered. _"We're pinned down and Dipstick's wounded!"_

"And me not there to save his aft," Cavalier muttered as she hailed up the medibay. "I'm running relay; hang tight. Hey, First Raid, what's medibay sitch?"

 _"Patient wing is on lockdown! We're pinned!"_ First Aid's pitch was an octave higher than normal; Ambulon was shouting at him to aim.

"Slag, that's twofer," she growled, hitting a bank of switches. "Any mech in the vicinity of Engineering and Medibay, we got incoming!"

 _"We're being swarmed, Cav!"_ Huffer reported. _"They're teleporting inside!"_

 _"Hate to say it, but they're on their own!"_ Gears added. _"And with my rotator seizing —"_

Cavalier switched frequencies, cutting the chronic complainer off in mid-sentence. "Grapple, where you at?" 

Bob trilled, lowering his head and backing up against her leg. 

_"Shuttle Bay Eleven; Hound ordered us to fortify a defence!"_

Well, better than nothing. "Hoist and Dipstick are pinned down; Dipstick took damage. Anyone available to assist?"

 _"More wounded reports coming in, Cav!"_ First Aid reported. _"We're doing what we can, but we're being overrun!"_

Bob struck tugged to her arm with his smaller hands, half dragging her to the grate.

"Hey, boss lady! I need more power from Engineering to override the jamming signal, but Hoist's pinned down and Dipstick's wounded, and I've gotta scram 'cuz Bob's got bogeys on his radar!"

 _"They get to the engines, it's game over,"_ Mainframe added. 

Cavalier did not wait; snatching her prize from the console, she bolted to the floor grate, yanked it up, and jumped down, with Bob hot on her heels. "Next relay, buggy," she hissed, scampering to the next point.

 

*

Smokescreen and Inferno  
Maintenance Level  
Ten Cycles Ago

 

"Frag, lost comms," Smokescreen growled. 

"What a surprise," Inferno grumbled. "We've lost three-quarters of command with no discernible emergency chain in place, the engines work maybe half the time, somehow Drift and his buddies smuggled Overlord on board without anyone knowing, and now we're facing off with another yet undetermined threat as we stumble upon, of all planetoids, Luna 1. Why not lose comms as well?"

"Watch it there, you're starting to sound like Hoist."

"Primus forbid I'm channelling the one mech on board with a lick of sense. Did I mention the loss of crew in the past thirty megacycles, including Pipes? You know, our friend?"

"Now is not the time to play the revenge card," Smokescreen chided. "It's said and done, and while yes, I am upset about that, we need to focus on what's critical at this moment in time, and that's keeping the rest of our crew from meeting the same fate."

"Says the guy who used me as a gambling chit," Inferno muttered. 

"Nice to see you've forgotten everything that led up to that point," the speedster countered. He forced the topic closed by attempting to hail security. "Hey, Teebs, are you reading us?" Pause. "Hey, Brat, where you at, girl?"

Squelching from the ship-wide speakers, followed by Max's baritone. _"—repeat, the Lost Light is under attack. Our defences have been breached by unknown aggressors—"_

"Oh, that's not good," Smokescreen muttered, drawing his sidearm. 

_"— Everyone be on your guard, we don't know how many have teleported on board —"_

"Lock and load," Inferno groused, bringing his own shotgun online.

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

_"—but it's possible—"_

"Hear that?" the Praxian questioned in a hushed tone. 

"What the hell is that?" Inferno hissed as they both ducked into an alcove.

_"—in fact it's very possible—"_

_< <Seventeen-twenty-one.>>_

A sharp tang of ozone filled the air, proceeded by heavy marching and the repeating number sequence. Smokescreen turned, dropping to his knees and brought a bead to the now incoming squadron of towering golden mechanoids coming down around them.

_"—that we've been overrun."_

**NEXT CHAPTER:** Renegade


End file.
